The Silent Earth
by jetflight girl
Summary: Amane intended to give Hikari the best birthday ever, but that was not destined to be. [Silent Hill and StoPan, with elements borrowed from other fandoms]
1. September Warning

DISCLAIMERS, NOTES ETC: This is a crossover of multiple universes and, despite everything, not a pure Silent Hill story. It certainly borrows a lot from Silent Hill, but not only. So purists, beware.

I also don't own any of the fandoms from which I've borrowed from, the real owners are multiple and various. Also, it should be noted that while the concept may seem... odd, at best and indeed, it started from a slightly humorous drabble, the story doesn't feature so much humour as it features death and violence. So be forewarned.

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I. SEPTEMBER WARNING

Hikari had fallen asleep on the passanger seat, Amane noted from the corner of her eye. She herself didn't feel particularly sleepy thanks to her latest dose of caffeine and she focused on the road ahead. The short white stripes on the asphalt sped past the car as it put one mile after another behind them, leaving behind the Astraea Hill and all of it's petty schemers and loyal friends alike. The power struggle over the Etoile-position, soon to be left vacant by Tamao and Nagisa, and the antics of Yaya and Tsubomi. Leaving it all behind just for a while, with a single purpose on Amane's mind:

To give Hikari the 16th birthday that she deserved; one that she'd never forget. She had had to go through fire and ice to arrange things so that Hikari could be excused from school for a few days. University was far easier in that regard; come to think of it, Amane mused wryly, she probably would've had an easier time getting Hikari on a leave from a prison.

Casting another look at the sleeping beauty next to her, Amane slipped her hand in the pocket of her long coat and pulled out a small object. A silver cross, decorated with a fine sheet of some dark purple, glass-like material and five small amber gemstones; it had cost a good deal, but Hikari was worth it all and then some.

Smiling to herself, Amane slid the cross back into her pocket. For now, it would have to remain hidden. Only when the birthday came; then, she would present Hikari with the full range of presents and events she had planned. Anything for her fair-haired angel.

Amane's musings were cut short as a black, human-shaped figure suddenly jumped on the road in front of the car. She slammed on the breaks, but it would be too late; she made a desperate attempt to drive past the figure, but the asphalt under the wheels of their car suddenly seemed to have transformed into slick ice, for the car was completely out of control and slid wildly on the road. The figure made no attempt to move as the car slammed into it with it's left side, sending it flying. For an infinite moment, Amane saw the car sliding straight into the safety rail and wondered if it would hold.

It didn't.

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When Amane came to, it was bright outside; so unbearably bright for her eyes, making her head hurt even worse. The car was on it's front end, as she noticed after a short while, and she was hanging by the safety belt. After a moment, she looked to her right; there was no sign of Hikari, but the safety belt was opened, not snapped. Amane was sure that it had been fastened when Hikari slept.

Her right hand was hanging limply and try as she might, Amane could not get it to move in the slightest. She brought her knees up in front of herself and, after a stab of pain in her abdomen, rested them against the wheel, then reached with her left hand to unfasten her seat belt. Luckily, it was not jammed and she fell forward against the steering wheel as the belt snapped open. The sudden release was painful and her right hand fell against the dashboard with a loud, dull thud; Amane felt nothing.

The front and the side windows were smashed. Maneuvering with her one good hand, Amane managed to pull herself out of the side window, bloodying her hand against some glass shards in the process, and landed on the ground with a pained groan. She noted with some satisfaction, however, that the pain wasn't great or sharp, indicating that no ribs were broken.

With feeling returning to her right hand, she started moving it around to get it back into shape. Once done, she pulled out a single piece of glass from her left palm. The first aid kit had fallen through the front glass and Amane picked it up, looking around.

For some reason, it was snowing. She was hazy from the blow to her head, but she was pretty certain it had been only early september when they started. Were they high in the mountains? And where was Hikari?

Limping, Amane walked to the other side of the car. The tracks were still very clear; even the pattern of the boots was noticeable. As was the fact that the tracks were huge; one of the footprints looked about as big as Hikari's both feet put together. Hikari hadn't been wearing tank boots, either.

The blood trickling down her left hand caught Amane's attention and she opened the first aid kit, bandaging and sterilizing the wound the best she could. The bandage turned crimson almost immediately, but the wound did not seem very serious. There was no sign of Hikari's blood, but Amane was taking no chances. Fishing her backpack from inside the car, she stuffed the first aid kit inside it and started following the tracks.

The boot-wearer had trudged up the 5-metre slope and the footprints came fainter at the point where the now-scrapped car had smashed through the safety rail and torn up the soil. Slipping once and ruining her coat, Amane moved back on the road and looked around. The skid marks were still clear on the asphalt, but not much else was. The thick mist was severely limiting her vision, but the footprints were still seen. They seemed to move away from the scene.

Everything was dead silent and Amane was getting goosebumps. It was not from the cold, but from an uneasy feeling that she could not define. Common sense told her that if the footprints did not belong to Hikari, she should keep looking for her; call out her name and hope that she'll respond. But something held her back; a feeling that she could not place. A warning in her heart that this tank-booted somebody had taken Hikari and that calling out for her would only bring unwanted attention. A certain knowledge that SOMEONE had taken Hikari and that she, Amane, needed to get her blonde angel back, no matter the cost.

Still limping slightly, she started following the large footprints, deeper into the mists. She did not notice the sign that she left behind; an old, worn sign, weathered and battered by age and elements, but still clearly reading:

"Welcome to Silent Hill". 


	2. Red Stains

NOTE: Still don't own the concepts. Violence, begin...

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II. RED STAINS

The fog was unrelenting and the snow kept falling. Amane wished she was wearing a raincoat or at least something made of leather, as the chill was finally getting to her, starting to become an even greater cause for concern than the constant feeling of unease. The tracks were getting weaker as snow kept falling, but they were still trackable. She had seen no sign of Hikari nor the mystery boot-wearer for half an hour already and her cell phone showed no coverage whatsoever; whether something was distracting the messages or it had been damaged in the crash, she did not know.

Now, though, the vague shape of a car was appearing in the mist ahead and Amane quickened her pace. She wasn't an expert in all things automobile, but the car ahead did not look or feel Japanese - the massive pick-up truck looked more like some monstrosity out of a Mad Max movie. But what caught Amane's attention instead was a human figure sitting on top of the roof of the pickup, his legs in the back of the car. He appeared bored and was tossing a knife in the air and catching it again, before catching it for the final time and taking it in a firm grip.

"Howdy, cowboy," he said, turning to Amane. "'s a nice day fer an apocalypse, ain't it?"

It took Amane a few moments to recognize English through the stranger's accent, but once she did, she was glad that French hadn't been the only foreign language they'd studied at Spica. "Who are you?"

"Eh? You sound funny, boyo. I guess you must be Canadian. Now what can old Johnny do fer you?"

Amane again had to decipher his words mentally. "Have you seen anyone else? A... blonde girl?" she asked.

"Blonde miss? About 15? Young Tommy came through with one such. Said he'd found a survivor. Must've been one pure soul to end up spared."

"Spared?"

"Ayup. From the whole apocalypse, you know. Just as you were," he said, hopping off his truck and walking to meet Amane. He seemed friendly enough, for being completely and absolutely out of place; but he was also armed and the unnamed SOMETHING again warned Amane against him. As he came closer and caught a better look of Amane's features, he raised his left eyebrow in surprise. "Well, well... Didn't think the Lord would spare your kind... In fact..." he narrowed his eyes and the grip on his knife tightened. "I'm starting to think He didn't. Ye bloody chicoms are all alike, so I guess yer devilsent instead!" he spoke, his voice gradually raising into angered shouts.

Amane, too, caught a better look at him. He was dressed in what had once been a police uniform, but it looked dirty and torn now; his chin and cheeks were unshaved and dirty and the look in his eyes was very rapidly turning into that of a madman. He was still screaming, no longer comprehensible, and charged with his knife raised. Acting on a strange impulse, as if not in control of herself, she shot her hand forward in a punch, despite the man still being several metres away from her.

To the great surprise of both her and the man, the remote punch knocked the air out of him and sent him flying. He crashed into the side of his truck and, gasping for air, reached for the gun at his side.

Amane was still staring at her hands, shocked, when everything dimmed and she felt her knees buckle. She looked at the man, but her vision faded and the last thing she remembered was a distant, dull thud before she lost concsiousness.

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Amane awoke to an oppressive sense of dryness in her mouth and her body jerked as she coughed. She turned on her side and coughed; her mouth felt as if it was full of sand and she spat out some sort of black substance, mixed with her saliva. Still coughing, she managed to free her throat of the strange substance and caught breath before looking around. She was still at the same spot where she had been when the man assaulted her, only she had been laying on her back.

She looked at the man and turned away immediately. His body was slumped against the pick-up truck just as it had been before. His hand was gripping a revolver in a literal death grip; his neck was half-way severed and there was a long, deep gash on his torso - he was quite clearly dead. Amane tried to swallow, but her mouth still felt as if it was filled with sand and, groggily, she got up.

The snow was still falling, she noted, but then took a closer look. It wasn't snow, but ash, and the air smelled bad. The short-haired girl looked at her hands, remembering her strange attack, almost like telekinesis, against the man who had labelled her a Chinese communist. The whole thing felt surreal and she pinched herself just to make sure it wasn't a dream. To her regret, it wasn't.

The dryness in her throat made her cough again. She needed water and she needed it now. The snow had turned into ash, so she decided to try and look pass the dead body and search the car in hopes of finding anything to drink. She approached the car, carefully making a circle around the dead man and peered into the car. The back only held a two-barreled, sawed-off shotgun and a small box of bullets, but the car itself was locked. The dead body would probably have the keys and Amane was hesitant - she didn't particularly want to deal with the dead body that, as a nagging voice at the back of her head was telling her, was her handiwork. Somehow, some way, Amane had killed the man during her blackout. Slashed his throat and his chest somehow.

No, she shook her head decisively. It was a ridiculous thought. She had blacked out, simple as that. She didn't even have any blade and, queaziness aside, neck-wounds produced large amounts of blood; there would certainly be some on her. No, someone else must've done that, though for the very life of her, Amane couldn't figure out who or why, nor where had that someone gone.

Thinking for a moment, Amane reached for the shotgun and, careful to point the barrel away from herself, slammed it into the window of the car, preferring to smash the window to searching the corpse. The gun simply bounced back and the sudden rebuffing of her attack only served to send a dull ache into her hands. She tried hitting the front window, but the barrel of the gun didn't even leave a scratch on the glass.

This was beginning to anger Amane. She unsuccessfully tried to swallow again, but only felt a throat-ache coming. She gazed at the box labelled "Coca-Cola" (in latin alphabet) inside the car - not the best thirst quencher, but it beat ash and smoke, presuming the box's exterior coincided with the interior, of course - threw in a few curses and jumped on the hood of the car before jumping lightly to the other side of the car, next to the corpse. She was not sure why she put on this athletic display rather than simply walking around the car, but that was not on the list of her priorities right now.

Looking away from the corpse, she breathed deeply of the smelly air and turned to search the pockets of the scrapped, bloody uniform. From one of those, he found a whole patch of keys and, sure enough, one of them looked like a car key.

Not wanting to move the corpse, she walked back to the driver's side of the car and tried the key. It fit and Amane opened the door, going for the box immediately. Much to her relief, the box contained several bottles of the famous shape. However, thirsty as she was, the short-haired athlete also noticed that all texts on both box and bottles were in English. There was no opener, but if there was one thing Amane had learned in university, it was opening bottles without an opener.

The first few mouthfuls tasted like ash and, grimacing, she used the dark liquid to rinse her mouth and spat it out. She then eased herself into the driver's seat and drank most of the remaining Coke while looking around inside the car. It all looked worn and somewhat dirty. Faded images of blonde, busty and naked women (all of them caucasian) with 80ies hair were glued on several surfaces and an unadorned cross was hanging from the mirror. She took the cross in her hand and turned it over, ripping the cheap thread it was hung by in the process. It was silver, or a good imitation of it, but otherwise unremarkable, and the athlete discarded it, tossing it on the passanger seat.

As it landed, a hissing sound came from her left, making Amane turn her head sharply. The sound came from a strange figure that was approaching the car slowly, moving hunched like a huge gorilla. It's skin was hairless, though, and gray as that of a body long dead. Several long gashes were in it's skin and a black, tar-like substance was oozing out of those wounds, though the figure did not seem to pay any attention to them. It stopped about ten metres from the car, it's human-shaped, featureless head turning to the side as if it was measuring Amane without any organs, but then it suddenly lurched forward and launched a glob of the black, tarry substance.

Amane flinched and recoiled instinctively as the well-aimed goo flew at her. It was stopped by the car's window, though, which immediately began to melt with a hissing sound. Scrambling backwards, Amane cursed as she saw the creature leaping forward, covering the entire distance with a single jump. It landed on the hood of the car and spat again, dissolving the front window as well. As she scrambled to open the door and flee, her hand caught hold of the shotgun and, barely having time to think, she grabbed the gun, aimed it through the hole in the window and pulled the trigger. The buckshot hit the creature in the chest and it staggered backwards and an unearthly wail followed the echo of the loud shot. Grabbing a better hold of the weapon, Amane shot again and the creature just made a gargling sound and fell off the car. As it hit the ground, she heard a loud splat and the creature dissolved into a rapidly shrinking pool of black tar.

As the tension left her, Amane closed her eyes and rested her head against the seat, her hands shaking as they still gripped the empty gun. This was a nightmare. It had to be, creatures like this didn't exist in the waking world. Yet, she somehow knew with dreadful certainty that nightmare or not, it was real enough to mean life or death to her - literally. After a moment, she breathed in and out deeply and summoned her resolve. Hikari was out there, with creatures like this roaming about, so it was up to Amane to find her and then find them a way out of this accursed place, this nightmare.

Summoning her resolve, Amane opened the now-glassless door and headed for the ammo box. She was no expert in gunfighting, but it beat fighting acidic creatures barehanded, so she threw aside the two used shells and reloaded the shotgun. She had 20 shots remaining and, suppressing the feeling of creeping fear and unease, she put the rounds into the pocket of her coat, hoping they wouldn't discharge easily. Done with that, she fiddled with the safety of the shotgun a bit, learning how to open and close it quickly, but also how to stash the weapon so the safety would stay on. After a short self-taught Sawed-Off Shotgun 101, she went back to the driver's seat and tried the keys in the ignition. For reasons she couldn't really explain, the bluette was completely unsurprised as nothing at all happened, so she emptied the bottle of coke, tossed it violently aside for some reason and stashed the remaining five bottles into her increasingly heavy backpack.

Getting out, she slammed the driver's door shut behind and looked around. For a moment, the entirely inappropriate thought of throwing a Duke Nukem-style one-liner crossed her mind, but she shook her head and concentrated on the task ahead. There was a town in this mist; a dead town or, at worst, the outskirts of a city. Somewhere within it was Hikari, and possibly - probably - even more madmen and monsters. And then there was Amane, a teenaged girl with a gun and twenty bullets.

She cursed again, tossing out all the good breeding of Spica and, finding strength in her angry profanities, stepped forward into the mist. The ashfall has almost stopped, but it had been enough to cover any possible tracks. 'Young Tommy came though with one such,' the words of the madman echoed in her head. The street was continuing only in one direction, so Amane stepped forward, moving further into the ghostly town, gripping her shotgun till her knuckles turned white. The houses looked outdated and several of them were in a state of disrepair. The windows were covered with dust and ash so thick that nothing at all could be seen through, yet Amane constantly felt the unease of being watched. Glances around and behind revealed no one, so she moved onwards until she reached a crossroad.

Streets stretched into the mist on all four sides. A few car-shaped figures were visible on the streets straight ahead and to the left, so on an impulse, she decided to head left, memorizing the crossing in case she ever happened to run in circles. There was still nothing audible other than Amane's own steps, muffled by the ash-mixed snow on the street and she could feel her summoned resolve crumbling. A voice in the back of her head screamed for her to leave this accursed place, to run away and not look back and it was getting louder. But another fear was far stronger - fear for Hikari and what the madmen might be doing to her.

She swallowed and stepped forth, looking at the signs outside the buildings. Old, worn signs, some no longer readable, advertising shops and services. The town was beginning to remind Amane something out of a western-movie; she just hoped there were no insane sharpshooters around. The thought brought back the images of the sliced up madman and she squeezed her eyes shut, conjuring the image of Hikari instead.

A crashing sound came from a store to her left and she grabbed her gun, aiming it towards the store. Everything else was quiet, so she walked closer carefully, willing her hands not to shake. She needed to be clear-headed and unafraid; she could not risk that it might be Hikari in that store; she could not shoot randomly.

There was a sound again, this time undeniably that of movement. Light steps, moving further into the store. "Hikari?" Amane called out.

As if in reply to the violation of silence, the roaring sound of an air raid alarm blared from speakers on every street corner and the skies began rapidly darkening... 


	3. Shattered Skins

NOTE: Well, Chapter 3. More action this time, lots of axe-to-head type communication. Also, I still don't own the concepts and worlds. Other people do.

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III. SHATTERED SKINS

With tortured screams, small and vaguely human-shaped figures were hobbling, limping and crawling from behind corners and out from further in the darkness. Some looked like humans cut in half, only hands, head and torso, with their bodies on fire, while others were walking on two feet. Some of them were dragging fire axes with both hands, others gripped metal pipes, but most of them were unarmed, yet all were purposefully, if slowly, heading towards Amane.

The air raid sirens ended as if cut, but silence did not resume. A sort of industrial noise, roughly sounding like rusty metal objects being scraped against one another, permeated the air, accompanied, strangely enough, by a sort of haunting, wail-like sound of wind.

Amane looked around, looking for a way to flee, but she was surrounded. Cursing, she decided to brave whatever was inside the building and, tearing the rotten door open, ran inside with her gun at the ready. Inside the shop, it was even darker, making it impossible to see anything; thus, she almost missed the limping figure until it was right next to her, swinging it's axe with the aim of lopping off Amane's head. Acting on instinct, she managed to duck the slow swing and the axe cut into the wooden wall. Before she even came back up, she thrust the gun to the half-decayed head of her attacker and pulled a trigger, sending pieces of dead flesh into the ceiling above. The beheaded body jerked backwards from the power of the shot and fell to the ground.

Hitting her foot against something, Amane made out the outlines of a chair and, impulsively, grabbed the chair and swung it around herself in the darkness, hitting nothing. She then threw it at the window, contributing to the noise as the glass shattered and some of the very faint light flooded into the dark store. The figures outside were still coming after Amane and for the first time in her life, she found herself wishing she was a smoker and would have a light source.

But now, at least, she made out some faint outlines of furniture inside the shop and jumped across the counter, landing on what sounded like glass shards. A deformed creature of some kind leapt in from the newly-shattered window - Amane was reminded of the Xenomorphs from "Aliens" for a moment - although it's entrance was less than spectacular as it crashed into some still-intact glass on the way and instead of landing firmly, it crashed on the floor. Not waiting to guess if it was hostile or not, Amane fired the second round and after a final violent jerk, the creature remained still.

As the bluette tossed aside the two used rounds and reloaded mostly by touch, the zombie-like figures were crowding the building itself. She fired at the first two figures pressing themselves inside the shop and reloaded again, but before she could fire, something hard and blunt hit her shoulder, making her lose balance and fall against the wooden shelves, which almost disintegrated upon contact. The gun was knocked out of her hand and before she could grab hold of it again, a pipe-wielding zombie was reaching across the counter, aiming a powerful blow for her head.

Half-ducking, half blocking it with her hand, Amane managed to save her head, though the pain in her arm made her groan and grit her teeth. Her right hand caught hold of the shotgun again and she blasted the pipe-wielder in the face, but the axe of another figure knocked it out of her hand again. It raised it's axe again and Amane scrambled backwards, managing to get out of the way just as the fire axe slammed into the wooden floor.

Amane had avoided death again, but she was now cornered. The shotgun was out of her reach and her left hand was useless or even broken. She used the moment to get up again, gritting her teeth in pain, and one of the zombie-like creatures swung an obviously mis-aimed hit, knocking the fire axe into the wooden wall. Amane darted forward, kicking the critter in the chest with her heavy boot, then grabbed the axe handle with her left hand and pulled it free. Stepping to meet two of the creatures who were rounding the counter rather than reaching over it, she swung the rusty axe and slammed it into the head of an approaching pipe-wielder before it even managed to start it's swing.

She was surprisingly calm. Her left hand dangled on her side, but she pulled back the axe with her right, then quickly turned around to face one of the zombies who had fallen over the counter and slammed the axe into it's head. But a sharp blow into her side made her stumble and gasp for air and as she turned to face the other zombies, a cold, skinned fist slammed into her face, knocking her backwards and making her stumble and fall over the zombie she had just brained.

Another zombie fell over the counter and started to get up, while the one that was already on this side walked towards Amane's prone form. The human girl shot her foot forward and hit the zombie to it's groin - were her opponent a human male, it would've certainly been out of commission and probably impotent for the rest of his life. As it were, the zombie did reel back, but the effect wasn't even close.

Then, something happened which Amane could not explain. Two extra-long, though rusty, kitchen knives levitated themselves in the air, stabbed into the stomach of the zombie and suddenly jerked in different directions, cutting the zombie in half. The knives flew towards the other zombies crowding the store just as the human turned to her side, having a difficulty breathing. She coughed repeatedly, each spasm sending a mind-numbing wave of pain through her body, but the room was growing darker and the sounds were growing farther.

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Amane woke to the sense of something tickling her neck and chin. She opened her eyes to see an unfamiliar roof with peeling paint at it, and... and the bloody edge of a dusty store counter. The ticking sensation did not go away, so Amane used her right hand to remove whatever was offending her, then sat up and backed away with a startled yelp as her hand came in contact with something warm and furry.

An equally startled grey rat scampered off Amane's chest as she sat up and stopped about a metre from the blue-haired athlete. It turned to look at Amane with accusing eyes, as if scolding her for scaring it. The world had turned back to it's light, fog-filled form, as she noticed when she watched the rat navigate the inanimate corpses of the zombie-creatures that Amane had slain before losing her consciousness. The rat stopped next to the dropped shotgun, sniffed it and looked back at the human.

Supporting herself with her right hand, Amane got up and moved her left hand slightly. It was still aching, but not as sharply as before, indicating that it was not broken. She touched her ribs but, aside a few painful bruises, they didn't seem worse for wear. There was dried blood on her face, which she rubbed off the best she could without a mirror, but nothing was broken. It was surprising, since the hits from the zombie-critters had felt like what Amane imagined being hit by a train would feel like. She also had no answer to the darkness, or why the creatures appeared, or why the darkness went away, or what had happened to the rest of the zombies, and many, many other things.

But she did have answer to one thing - what needs to be done. She stepped over the corpses, barely sparing them a glance, barely noticing their inhuman featurelessness. The rat was staring up at Amane as she approached the dropped gun, then nudged it with it's nose and looked back at Amane.

"Yeah, yeah. Not like I was planning to leave without it," she mumbled, not caring particularly that she was talking to a rat. With everything that had just happened, talking to a rodent with strangely intelligent - even for a rat - look in it's eyes just didn't rate very highly on her weirdness scale. She took hold of the gun, tossed out the used shell and put in another one. Fifteen shots. Fifteen bullets between her and the creatures. Mostly, they had appeared in the darkness, but that one goo-creature also came while it was light outside.

She took the cross out of her pocket and looked at it for a moment as it dangled on it's chain, then brought it to her face and murmured a quick prayer. She then slipped it into the pocket of her stained jeans, as it was tighter with less chance of the jewelry falling out if she ever had to fight melee with the zombie-creatures again. She checked her backpack, too and, to her surprise, found all the items intact.

The rat rose up against Amane's leg and pulled at her pants with it's teeth, getting the blue-haired girl's attention. She noticed a small, white ribbon around the rat's neck and bent down to examine it. The rat, using the momentum, rapidly climbed up along her arm and stopped at Amane's shoulder, adjusting itself as she stood straight again. She wasn't sure whether to be amused or annoyed, but then she caught a familiar scent and did a double take.

An unmistakeable scent of jasmine was mixed in with the dried blood and her own sweat; the very same jasmine scent that Hikari had worn when they left Astraea. "Hikari?" she whispered and looked around, but the rat poked her neck with it's nose and she turned to look at it. The scent was stronger now, so Amane picked up the rat and sniffed it. There was no more doubt, the scent was given off by the ribbon around the rat's neck. She raised the rat on her palm so that they were on eye level and the two looked each other in the eye. "What on Earth is your connection to Hikari..." she mumbled and the rat, as if in reply - or actually in reply, Amane was not sure which - nodded towards the outside, then ran onto Amane's shoulder again.

With a sigh, she put the gun safety on and slid it into the pocket of her coat. It fit perfectly into the deep pocket, leaving only the handle out, which was exactly at the right length for quick grabbing. She also took the fire axe she had been using on the zombies and stepped out of the store. The chair was still in front of the store, amidst broken glass, but there was no sign of the monsters, except for those that Amane had... killed? Destroyed, more like, since none of them looked like really living creatures.

Taking a better grip on her axe, Amane headed onwards along the street, continuing the path she had been on when the darkness came. She hurried along the street, keeping an eye out for anything at all, but all was quiet for a while. The street ended at another crossing and she stopped, looking around again. To her left were old gates, made of metal barbs and arced with stone that had probably been once white, but were now dirty gray. The words "Rest in Peace", again in English of course, were still visible on the arc above the gate, and the metal fence continued straight ahead, as well. To the right, another street could be seen, long enough for it's end to disappear into the mist.

"Well, I doubt they'd be hanging around in the graveyard," Amane muttered and headed along the street. The feeling of being watched was back and she tightened her hold on the axe. There were still no signs of life, but the low, two-storey houses were slowly being replaced with more modern-looking ones. A large, obviously derelict schoolhouse loomed in the mists to her left, causing Amane to stop and ponder for a moment. A large building like that WOULD be more likely to house a group of people that survived... survived whatever had happened.

As she stood and stopped, the rat suddenly became very interested in something and, after staring at the ground for a few moments, turned to nudge Amane again before pointing it's nose at the ground in front of the school yard entrance. She stepped closer and her eyes widened.

There was a barely noticeable trail of footsteps. Left by small feet, around the same size as Hikari's foot. "Hikari?" Amane muttered, grabbed a better hold of her axe and ran along the trail, passing the rusty old gate and the dead, dried trees that had once formed an alley. The footprints were becoming more obvious with every step as the looming schoolhouse became more clearly visible ahead.

As she neared the short staircase and doors of the schoolhouse, she slowed down and eventually stopped. There had been a fight here, as well. Three bodies, not unlike the zombie things Amane herself had fought, were strewn in front of and on the stairs. Two of them had been slashed and stabbed, one was beheaded. But what really caught her attention was the fourth dead body. Mostly, it looked like a human with pale grey skin and grotesquely disfigured, bald head, wearing a long skirt. But a long, crimson claw extended from both of it's wrists and there were some sort of red, horn-like formations extending from it's back. The dead skin on it's torso seemed to have been cut open and nails driven into it, though Amane didn't even want to start guessing why that had been done. That creature, too, had been killed by several deep slashes to it's back, one of which seemed to have severed the spine.

She shook her head in disgust and, once again, forced herself to suspend disbelief. Finding out what was going on and why was she in a dead, English-language town with people that spoke strange English would have to wait; first, she needed to find Hikari and get her to safety. The small footprints could be seen continuing again in front of the door, so Amane stepped on the stairs, just as a sharp crack sounded from behind her.

She turned sharply on her heels, causing the rat to cling to her coat and, as they both noticed the source of the sound, the rat thought it better to quickly escape into Amane's coats inner pocket. Somehow, dozens of slowly moving human-like figures had managed to sneak up on her and were emerging from the mist only ten metres from her position, brandishing pipes and axes, much like the zombies she had fought before. Their movements were similar, but their skin tones, while pale, looked healthier and, more importantly, looked living. However, their bare upper bodies were all badly mutilated, cut open in full extent and then roughly and crudely sewn back together. Amane couldn't even tell which body had been male, which female.

Seeing that Amane had noticed them, the figures quickened their pace and raised their weapons. Cursing again, Amane ran up the stairs, tore open the school door and entered. There was no way she could fight all of them at once and she didn't have enough bullets to shoot them all, so she preferred to be in tighter quarters. Hoping that there would be no monsters inside, she opened the next door as well and stepped into the large foyer.

The school foyer, much like the rest of the town, was old and dusty. The walls were cracked and some moss was growing in a few corners. The wardrobe's wooden elements were rotten and most of them had fallen over. A clock was still firmly situated on the wall, it's time having stopped at 3:36 at some unknown, but doubtlessly distant, date. There were three staircases leading upwards, one straight ahead, two on both sides.

And from each of those staircases, two similarly zombie-like creatures were lumbering down. Hearing the outside host breaking at the door, Amane cursed and ran straight ahead, intending to break through the two before the others reached the foyer. The zombie-creatures quickened their pace as well and, as Amane noticed, they weren't nearly as slow and clumsy as the zombies in the shop had been. Still, she ducked the swings of the two and tripped one, making it fall down the stairs. The other one turned to attack Amane again as she slipped past, but only managed to turn just in time to receive an axe into it's face. The tripped humanoid was swinging it's axe around wildly so, acting half-way on impulse, she slammed her axe into one of it's vulnerable feet, almost severing it.

As she turned to rush up the stairs again, Amane took note of another difference - these creatures bled and Amane's rusty fire axe was now covered in blood. The door into the schoolhouse broke and the creatures piled in, joined by the two pairs that descended the other stairways. The short-haired girl picked up one of the scattered axes, took aim and threw it at the oncoming horde, noting with some satisfaction that one of the critters was hit in the chest and fell.

The creatures trampled over their still-living companions as they rushed up the stairs, after Amane who had slipped into the school corridors. The hallways were still too large to attempt to mount any resistance, so she just used the momentum to slip into one of the classes and squeezed herself against the wall to avoid detection, hoping that these creatures weren't tracking her by smell or some sort of sixth sense.

As she hid thus, listening to the sound of the padding of dozens of bare feet, fear began to creep into her. The combative adrenaline rush was wearing off and a nagging sense of unease was taking it's place, making her hands shake. Gritting her teeth, Amane squeezed the handle of her axe and slipped one hand inside her coat. Stroking the rat with her fingertips seemed to calm her a bit and, after making sure that the host had passed her, she peeked out, then ran back towards the stairs. The stairs were clear, except for the dead she had left before, and she rushed towards the door. As she stepped outside, she froze in her tracks.

Another dozen or so creatures were still standing on the outer stairs and began advancing towards her now. Cursing, she slipped back inside, just in time to notice what she presumed was the host she evaded before coming down from two stairways. With a frustrated growl, she ran towards the final staircase, thankful that, despite being faster than the zombies in the darkness, the creatures were still relatively slow.

Reaching up, she found of doors that were firmly locked. With an angry shout, she kicked the double doors open, breaking the lock on them, and moved deeper into the school, the critters still hot in pursuit. The first stretch of corridor ended with a huge steel door, which, predictable, was locked and nowhere near as easy to smash open as the previous ones. However, a smaller, wooden door was to her left, so she kicked it - needlessly, as it turned out, for the door was unlocked - and rushed in. It was a classroom of some sort, with a single zombie-like creature in it. The zombie seemed more surprised to see her than the other way around and thus, barely had time to raise it's pipe before Amane smashed the blade of her axe into it's gut, doubling it over, then caved it's head in with the pointed end.

But her victory was shortlived as the host of zombies was approaching fast. She opened the nearest window and looked outside. There was no sign of zombies and, casting a look over her shoulder, she preferred to brave the jump instead. She stepped on the windowsill and jumped down, managing to get out just before the zombies stormed the classroom. Her landing was perfect, but her leg had still not entirely recovered from the crash, so she couldn't help but crying out in pain as it reminded itself painfully upon landing, making her see stars.

As she gasped for air on the ground, her weapons forgotten, more zombies arrived and it would've certainly ended badly for the temporarily incapacitated Amane. The nearest zombie was rushing towards her, it's axe raised, as a loud "Click!" sounded and a harpoon pierced it's torso, exploding into spikes. The harpoon was pulled back, sending the zombie flying and tearing it's torso apart even further, and that gave pause to the rest of the zombies. A metal disk of some sort followed the harpoon, cleaving itself through the neck of another zombie.

Amane, slowly coming back to her senses, turned to look at the source of the unexpected aid just in time to see a black-robed figure, sitting atop a jet black mare, firing another harpoon into the chest of a zombie, then jerking it back away from Amane. The main zombie host, or some other one - Amane couldn't tell them apart - was rounding the corner, coming from the main door, but froze as they saw the black horse raise on it's hind legs and let out an unearthly - not to mention unhorsely - wail. The rider spurred the horse onwards and the zombies turned to flee as the rider grabbed a wicked-looking scythe into it's left hand and rode towards the scattering zombie host. The serrated blade of the scythe impaled one of the creatures, lifted it into air and almost tore it in half, decapitated another one and cut open the torso of a third, before the rider stopped, raised it's scythe triumphantly.

The rider then steered it's horse towards Amane who had gotten up, supporting herself mostly on her good foot and held her gun at the ready. The stranger had just saved her from zombies, but she figured it was better safe than sorry, especially in this crazy town.

But as the rider neared, the surroundings seemed to shift. The horse became much less impressive, turning into a regular black mare, and the scythe disappeared, only to be replaced with a harpoon gun. The gorily mutilated zombies remained, but their previously savage wounds turned into small holes with small harpoons in them and the blackhooded rider no longer seemed to radiate fear, nor did they appear so tall and majestic.

As the rider drew closer, they put away the harpoon gun and Amane caught a better look at them. Though the robe was loose, Amane was fairly certain that underneath it was a woman - or a girl, rather. The rider's face was covered by a black and white mask, and further concealed by the shadow of the large hood.

"Who are you?" Amane asked warily in English.

In response, the rider removed the mask and pushed back the hood. Amane's hands seemed to go limp and fell to her sides and for a moment, she felt as if she should sit down as she muttered in recognition:

"Etoile-sama!" 


	4. Decay

NOTES: Still don't own. Amane's version of "How To Make Friends..."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

IV. DECAY

"Etoile-sama!" Amane exclaimed as she felt her knees go weak. This could not be real. Ash-coated towns and monsters she could accept, but this?

"Shh!" the black-haired girl said with a half-smile, placing her finger on Amane's lips and leaned closer. She reached down and took Amane's free hand, placed something sharp and cold into it and closed the taller girl's hand into a fist, hiding the object in it. "Go there. Where the Angels don't sing. One such Angel waits for you there," she continued in hushed tones.

"Go where?" the blue-haired girl asked, but the Etoile just smiled and, suddenly leaning closer, placed a kiss on Amane's cheek so that the corners of their lips touched slightly, before sitting back up straight and spurring the horse.

"Wait!" the athlete called out as the rider headed into the deep mists, then ran after her in vain. The mists seemed to swallow the horse and the rider alike and far too soon to be natural. "Kaori-sama!" Amane shouted again, but there was no reply, save the echo of her own voice.

Bewildered, she opened her palm to see a golden, well-polished and ornate-looking key in it. It's tail was designed to look like the body of an angel with two golden wings, but there was no marking as to what kind if lock was it supposed to open other than the fact that it was nothing modern.

"Where the Angels don't sing..." she muttered. "How much stranger is this whole thing going to get?"

Putting the safety lock back on, she shoved the gun into her pocket, picked up her fire axe again and moved out of the school yard, preferring not to hang around there just in case the strange zombie-creatures got over their fear before the black rider. Heading back to the street, she noticed that the air had changed once again. It no longer smelled quite as bad and she could feel and see slight wind - the masses of fog were moving lazily, crawling as uncaring, gigantic beasts, severely limiting Amane's vision. The sounds were also back, but unlike in the darkness, they were neither loud nor threatening, rather a distant, mournful wail that, for a lack of better comparison, reminded her slightly of a particularly sad Gregorian requiem. She wasn't sure if it was truly that, or a trick of her ears, but by now, she doubted nothing anymore.

The rundown wooden houses were by now fully replaced with harsh, characterless stone houses of mass production, all of them abandoned and their windows smashed to pieces. The rat in her pocket finally dared to peek outside and, seeing that the coast was clear, climbed on Amane's shoulder again. Her foot no longer hurt and she could not feel the cut on her hand, but she did not question that, either. She was walking almost on automaton, knowing that she needs to move ahead if she is to find Hikari.

Her momentum was cut when the mournful song was silenced as if cut and was replaced by distant gunfire. She stopped dead in her tracks, listening carefully to see if she was mistaken. But there was no mistake - there was gunfire somewhere farther away. Few shots at first, the firing quickly grew into rapid shots from multiple weapons. Explosions and the crackle of lightning accompanied the firing, giving Amane pause. But where there was gunfire, must've been humans; where there were humans, Young Tommy and more importantly, Hikari, could be.

She broke into a run, heading towards the sounds of the fighting, praying that Hikari was alive and well. Not long after, a group of 5 pink-skinned zombie-things exited a small alley and came on the street, but they barely even noticed Amane as they headed the same way at a hurried - though considerably slower - pace. Both her and the zombies ignored one another even as she sprinted past them with the rat digging it's claws and teeth into the coat to hold on for it's dear life.

Amane had no idea how long she was running. She passed buildings, crossings, parks and wrecked cars. Smashed windows and scorched doors, dried trees and bent, rusty street lights. The sounds of gunfire kept coming closer, but also slower and rarer. The last gunshot Amane heard was very close; so close that she could actually hear a scream of agony accompanying it as she slowed down to avoid running into crossfire. She dropped her axe on the ground and grabbed her gun with both hands, remembering well the notion to never bring a knife - or a fire axe - into a firefight.

As she rounded a corner, her eyes widened in surprise. The scene before her was a site of veritable massacre. Dozens and dozens of bodies of the zombie-creatures were strewn about, as were the bodies of black-clothed humans, all pounded to death by axes or pipes. Blood and blood stains were all over the wide crossroad and the surrounding walls.

But not everyone was dead. A single zombie was still staggering, it's torso sporting multiple bullet wounds (or so they seemed to Amane) and it's left arm ripped off and bleeding profusely. But that was not what caught Amane's attention. A larger humanoid was standing in the middle of the square. It looked almost identical to the dead one she had seen in front of the school, complete with a long skirt, two gigantic claws and bone formations on it's back. It, too, appeared wounded, though it seemed to fare better. It's skeletal mouth was producing strange growls and wails and it kept circling around... As strange as the creature was, it's opponent was even stranger. It's body shape looked human enough, with pants, long coat and shirt coloured black and dark blue; but over his (at least Amane thought the figure was male) shirt, he wore some sort of metallic straps that formed a ribcage-like ornament, with skull images in the middle. His head was covered with a skull-like mask - or possibly, his head simply WAS a skull, Amane could not tell from the distance and from the shadow of his hood. In his hand, he held a staff of sorts, topped with a sickle-shaped blade.

Strangest of all, he was floating in midair, safely out of reach for both the zombie as well as the long claws of the greater monster. One of them - Amane was unsure which - hissed and the monster brought it's claws together and bowed. Fire formed out of thin air between it's claws and it shot a ball of fire towards the floating figure. The floating figure faded out of existance and reappeared next close to Amane herself, still floating in midair. He raised his staff in front of him and muttered something (with a surprisingly human-sounding voice) as electricity seemed to crackle in the metallic staff. After a moment, it seemed to gather into the blade at the top of the staff and he pointed it towards the monster.

As lightning dashed forth from the blade and hit the monster in the back, making it howl in pain and turn around sharply, Amane decided she had had enough of watching. Ducking behind a wall just as another ball of fire exploded near where she had just been, making the air incredibly hot and difficult to breathe for a moment, she entered a building through it's half-opened door and looked around. There was no guarantee that the staff-wielder would be friendly - it's looks did not exactly scream "boy scout" - but the monsters most certainly wouldn't be. So she decided to risk it and try to help the strange magic-man, but for that she needed a semi-safe point from which to fire at the monster with any hopes of hitting.

Fire exploded again, blowing heat and debris in from a window few metres ahead of her and making her duck for cover instinctively. The sound of lightning was followed by howls again, again expressing some unearthly form of pain. As Amane peered out of the window, she witnessed the man-like creature on the ground, down on one knee and his cloak sporting scortch-marks. The monster was still standing, but clearly pained as well and doubled over with it's hand pressing on it's right side.

But several more zombie-creatures were approaching the man. He noticed them too and, standing up, brought the staff up in the air again, held it for a moment, but this time, slammed it into the ground instead. With a loud crack, the ground shook and a shockwave, made visible by the movements of the fog - rippled the air around him. Amane, however, noticed something that he did not - that the large, fire-monster was up and aiming for him.

Hoping she's not mistaking a big mistake, the bluette sprinted into action. The buckshot had no hope of being even remotely accurate from this distance, this much she had gathered from experience as well as obscure knowledge picked up here and there; she needed to get closer. As she lightly jumped on the windowsill and pushed herself off, the world around her seemed to slow. The zombies were falling in slow motion and the larger beast was moving it's claws together in a crawl. The monster didn't even have time to react before Amane ran to him and fired a round at it's chest. Although it seemed to speed things up a bit, the monster's claw was still rather slow and she ducked it easily. This brought them face to face and, again feeling strangely fearless, Amane aimed her gun into the monster's deformed face and pulled the trigger. This time, the creature no longer survived as pieces of it's skull were flying in the air and the massive body fell on it's back - still far slower than Amane would've expected.

Adrenaline was flowing in her veins; as the shockwave dissolved, Amane ran towards the fallen zombies and, grabbing the nearest melee weapon, bashed in the skulls of two of the slow-motion zombies. To his credit, the staff-wielder did not question aid and fought the zombies as well. Weakened by the blastwave and helpless before the super-fast Amane, the zombies were slaughtered in less than a minute.

As the last one fell, the ominous-looking man leaned on the metal staff warily, but Amane didn't have time to notice that. As if suddenly exhausted by her fast sprint, she felt weak and, coughing so hard that it actually hurt, she fell to her knees, unable to support herself and gasped for air. After a moment, she felt lightheaded and dizzy and after wobbling uncertainly for a moment, she tried to support herself with her hands. Something obviously went wrong and she fell on the ground, hearing more than feeling her body drop.

But her consciousness returned after a few seconds and she turned herself to her back, still breathing heavily. She was well aware that in this state, she was completely at the mercy of the strange magic-man, but she simply couldn't lift herself up. Besides - he didn't appear to be in the best of shapes, either.

Her unnatural speed was another thing that Amane didn't analyze, though part of her thought she should analyze that as well as that strange punch she used on the crazy officer, as both might come in handy should she need to rescue Hikari from peril. But right now, she had other things to deal with.

"Who the hell are you?" the man asked in a strange, raspy voice as Amane slowly dragged herself to her feet and loosened her blouse's collar to relieve the choking sensation. His deep, cold blue eyes were staring at her unblinkingly as she calmly took her time dusting her coat off and giving a few petting strokes of reassurance to the rat, which was still staring into space with a frightened look. The petting seemed to wake it up and it squeaked once, weakly, then went back into Amane's pocket and curled up.

"I am Amane," she replied, also in English. "Who are YOU?"

Blue eyes stared into red for a while, neither backing down, until he snorted. "Szandor. Adeptus Maiorus 72. Formerly, leader of Group 72."

"Formerly?"

The skull masked face nodded towards the scene of massacre. "Aye. Formerly," he confirmed, not sounding particularly troubled over his loss. "Now, let's get the second part of introductions taken care of, shall we? WHAT the hell are you, how did you do that speed trick and why did you jump to my aid?"

Amane snorted and, seeing that immediate combat was not about to start, walked to collect her dropped shotgun from next to the dead beast. "Till a few hours ago, I was a regular university student. What I am now, I have no idea, nor do I know how I did that trick. As for why... Well, I have experience with these critters," she called over her shoulder, nudging one of the dead zombies with her foot. "They talk less than attack, so I figured I might have better chances at talking with you," she finished her tale as she loaded her shotgun, sighing. 13 bullets left and still no idea where to find Hikari at. She still had more questions than answers.

The masked man was silent for a while, pondering on Amane's tale. "I see. So it was accidental. Good."

"Good?" Amane raised her eyebrow, looking around for a suitable back-up weapon to pick up.

"For a moment, when you moved so quickly, I was afraid I had met an Unmasked," explained and walked to one of the corpses. It was a figure similar to himself, complete with the mask and the outer ribcage, but his clothes were black and red instead of blue. He kneeled next to them, but rather than some sort of farewell rite Amane had been expecting, he just removed the dead man's mask and took his staff.

Again, Amane didn't ask and cast a look around at the discarded weapons. There were a few assault rifles, but she didn't even pretend to know how to work with those, so she opted to collect a few pistols instead. Short comparison revealed them to be identical, so she put the safety on to one of them, unloaded the rest and stashed the spare clips in her backpack. As she did that, she noticed the Coke bottles and thirst reminded itself, so she opened the second bottle. For some reason, the field of death around her barely even registered with Amane, much less bother her - even though these were no humans, but real human beings.

"So what are you doing here, anyway?" she turned to him as he walked back towards her.

"Looking for something. Can't clarify more than that," he said. "Why are YOU here?"

"Got lost. Last thing I remember was driving in Japan, then got into a car crash and here I am. I am looking for a... friend. And I'm not leaving without her, even if all the zombie-things in the world stand in my way," she said, squeezing her fist into a ball.

"Slave."

"Excuse me?"

"The 'zombie-things' are called 'Slaves'. The bigger thing is 'Slave Master'. There's a bigger version of it, too, called 'Slave Priest', with more horns and it can float. When you see one of those, run like hell," the masked man explained and started walking deeper into the city, leaning on his staff as he went. "By the way... I am left without a squad. You're not my subordinate, but if I'm right, you and I are looking for the same place," he added, stopping and turning to look at her with his blue eyes.

Amane shrugged, heaved her backpack on her shoulder, put her pistol into her other pocket and started moving. "Might as well. Not like I have a clue where to find what I need, anyway..."

They walked in silence for a while. The fog seemed a bit less thick, enabling Amane to see further around herself. The air was no longer chilly, but rather warm and not long after, Amane found herself getting hot in the coat. The rat, too, climbed back on Amane's shoulder and set to rearranging it's fur. Most of the houses on this street appeared scorched, especially from the inside, but all the damages seemed more recent, rather than buried by time and dust like the half-rotten wooden houses of the outskirts.

"You should take those," Szandor said, extending the staff and the mask he took off the dead man towards the bluette.

Amane raised her eyebrow, looking at the items. "And what would I do with those?"

"I don't wear this mask because it's fashionable. It's a conduit that enables me and my kind to channel our power better. YOU obviously have the same power, or at least similar, so it might be useful for you."

She took the offered mask and looked at it. It was a white mask, reminiscient of a grotesquely grinning skull, but different from the mask that the man wore. "And how would I use such an ugly thing?"

"Put it on, and if you have the power as you seem to do, you'll be able to consciously form it to work as your power conduit."

"And if I don't have "the power"?" she asked, still looking the mask over.

"Then it'll do nothing."

"And the side-effects?"

"The first time you use it, it's likely to hurt. But that fades quickly with each successive time you put it on."

"Right..." Amane said, unconvinced. "I think I'll pass for now. I'm not risking any side-effects you may not know about or neglect to mention, not at this time, anyway," she continued, handing the mask back.

Instead of any protests or attempts to convince her otherwise, he just accepted the mask wordlessly and stashed it somewhere inside his coat. She really did not know what to think of him. He was better than the zombies, certainly, but Amane still didn't particularly like nor trust him. His entire image, obviously, was not built on inspiring trust and positive reactions, but even so... Yet, he seemed to know a bit about the situation, and he sure had some nice abilities to use.

Suddenly, he froze in mid-step and put a gloved hand on Amane's arm, calling her to a halt. "I think we had better head somewhere defensible, he said scant seconds before the air raid alarm sounded once again and the houses around them begun rapidly decaying... 


	5. Ward 213

NOTE: More obscure references. And old friends.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

V. WARD 213

Amane gritted her teeth as lightning crackled in the hallway, slamming several deformed figures back against walls or on the floor, all of them shaking from the electric shock. The right sleeve of her coat was torn open and her hand was scratched and bloody, courtesy of a run in with a predator that Szandor has dubbed "Shikari". She had used up almost half the ammo for her pistol in their escape into the hotel-like building, but the creatures just kept coming. Her right hand was pained both from the wound and from numerous recoils of the pistol in a short time.

This time, the darkness wasn't complete, rather, the world was drowned in some sort of infernal, blood-red glow that had no source, unless the air itself was the source. The paint on the walls was peeling visibly and cracks were appearing in the stone. The carpet on the floor was rotting as they walked on it and vines, leafless and sharp-thorned, were crawling along the walls. Amane and Szandor had retreated up three floors already, but the stream of creatures did not seem to cease. His lightning had bought them a bit of time and Amane used it to rip off the ruined sleeve.

But before she could even attempt to reach for bandages to stop the bleeding, a fresh torrent of crawling, legless and burning creatures came. Again swearing colourfully in Japanese, Amane switched the gun to her left hand and fired, again and again, until she was out of bullets. "Szandor!" she called out and reached for another clip. He stepped forward and, whispering something indecipherable again, used his power.

Amane's hand stopped in midair with the clip and Szandor alike froze in surprise, blinking as he brought his staff back. The lightning had functioned as usual, knocking down most of the creatures... but it had done so with the sound of a church bell, and cast the whole hallway into serene, blue light for a moment. Those of the monsters that did not die from the blast made whining sounds and curled into corners.

"Szandor, did you..." Amane asked, but then the church bell rang once more and again, the infernal red was replaced with blue light. The monsters squealed in pain again, and the bell kept ringing with a few seconds in between. The world seemed to return more and more into normal colours as the creatures whined and screeched in agony and dissolved into nothing.

Equally dumbfounded, the humans looked at each other and, weapons at the ready, moved back towards the stairs as the vines on the wall retreated, walls repainted themselves and the rotten carpet turned back into a dust-covered, formerly red fabric. When the bell rang the final time, everything looked again as it had been before the air sirens, including there being no sign of the burning monsters. This, too, puzzled Amane, as the slain zombies had remained firmly in place after the darkness had receded.

As they reached the main entrance of the hotel, Amane shook her head. "I don't think I will EVER figure out what the hell is going on with this town."

"Funny you should mention that..." Szandor began. "According to our research, this place is a metaphysical vortex that shifts between alternative dimensions, bending the continuum as well as altering the vectors of neurokinetic energy," he explained.

Amane looked at him, then at the ground, turned to face him with her whole body and still stared at him, blinking. "Three things: first, you're talking to a linguistics major; second, English is my third language; third: Huh?"

Szandor sighed and rubbed his temples. "We're on the road to Hell. We see dead people."

Amane nodded. "That would explain..." she drifted off.

"Explain what?"

"I met a... friend... earlier," the bluette said, her tone carefully neutral. "She died 4 years ago."

As if on cue, the whinnie of a horse sounded from the next crossing and they both sharply turned to look that way. The vague shape of a black rider could be seen that way and Amane broke into a run. "Kaori-sama!" she called out, hoping the former Etoile would wait for her this time. But the rider tossed a metal pipe her way and rode into the mist again, disappearing before she even reached the corner. Amane cursed as she reached the crossroad only to find it empty and hissed as her hand reminded itself. Reaching into the backpack, she pulled out the first aid kit and proceeded to bandage the entire length of her arm after cleaning it with antiseptic fluids.

Szandor, in the meanwhile, picked up the metal pipe. It was unadorned and hollow, looking suspiciously much like one of the make-shift clubs that the Slaves used. "Take a look at this," he said as he fished out a paper from it.

On the paper was an image, or rather four images. Coloured mostly black, gray and blood red, they were images of chained, impaled, mutilated and tortured remains of humans. The upper left image had chains with manacles, with corpses chained up in unnatural positions and behind bars. Upper right had the curled up image, very life-like, of a young girl, battered and bloody, in a torn school uniform; a bloody metal ruler laid next to her. The lower left image showed people strapped to hospital beds, also grotesquely mutilated and cut open. The final one depicted charred corpses tied to large poles, hinting of people being burnt alive. And beneath it all, 4 words were scribbled in kanji.

"Terror, hatred, oppression, violence," Amane translated. "What is this?" she wondered aloud. "Why did she show us this..."

"How did your friend die? Anything from her memories, perhaps?" Szandor asked, but Amane shook her head.

"None of that. She was well-respected and loved in school and she died peacefully, of a disease of some sort, in her bed at the dorms. Prison and live burnings are not even worth mentioning," she explained. "No, she was trying to tell me something else..." she continued, not noticing when she switched to Japanese in her musings. "If Hikari was in danger, I think she'd just TELL me... I hope..."

"Eh?" he asked, but Amane shook her head again.

"Nevermind. Maybe she was giving me clues where to look? I first met her just outside the school... and school is definitely listed here..." she muttered, then turned sharply on her heel and pointed at Szandor, making him recoil reflexively. "How much do you know about this town?"

"I studied the map pretty thoroughly before we came here, but I don't have one with me. Silent Hill isn't a very big town, was about..."

"Does it have a prison and a hospital?" she cut in.

"Yes, but I don't know where."

Amane looked around the crossing, took the metal pipe from Szandor and headed towards what looked like a store with large windows. Fishing the rat out of her pocket, she set it on the ground and walked to the window. She took off her backpack and coat, placed the latter against the window and bashed it with the pipe, shielding herself from the large pieces of glass. Once the hole was sufficiently large, she shook the coat free of glass shards and put it back on, despite the temperature still going up.

The store was dusty and abandoned, as was everything else in this town. Racks of sports-related gear were lining the walls, as well as clothing and worn brochures dealing with sporting and hiking opportunities around the town and county. Tossing things around a bit, she found what she was looking for. Blowing some of the dust away from the counter, she spread the map of the town and looked at it. Having been folded, it had escaped the worst of the effects of time and dust. Both the hospital as well as the prison were marked on it - the latter much less prominently, of course - clearly enough, but Amane did not know where they were at currently.

Just as she was folding up the map to go and take a look at the street names, something crashed at the back of the store. With a tortured groan and limping steps, yet another one of the Slave creatures was making it's way towards her. She backed away a few steps and, noticing a baseball bat on a shelf to her right, decided to leave her gun be and grabbed the bat instead. It's barehanded punches were slow; far too slow for Amane. Ducking the attacks, the short-haired girl slammed the baseball hat into the side of the Slave. The baseball bat landed with an audible crack and knocked the Slave back and, before it managed to recover from the broken ribs, Amane landed another hard hit against it's neck, breaking it and sending the Slave to the ground.

She looked at the bat in her hand, twisted it around for a moment, tossed it in the air, caught it and nodded decisively. It didn't have sharp ends, but it was better balanced than a fireaxe and, unlike the Slave weapons, didn't appear to be almost-succumbed to the ravages of time. Heaving the slugger on her shoulder, she took the map and stepped outside where the rat and Szandor were patiently waiting. She picked up the rodent and looked around, feeling a measure of confidence returning now that she had an aim.

"Right then... We are..." she spoke, looking at the map and the street signs. Unsurprisingly, Szandor pointed their location out first and dragged the line they needed to take to reach the hospital. "Right..." Amane added. "That means... here, here, here, here," she pointed out the locations where they needed to turn away. "Well, let's go."

She started walking fast, almost to the point of jogging and it got hot inside her coat soon. Still, she didn't want to dispose of it, remembering what the weather was like near where her car had crashed. A few Slaves slowed their path for a few moments, but Amane, filled with determination, batted them away with her newfound bat and Szandor carved them apart with the blade atop his staff. Neither bothered to waste magic or bullets on such minor encounters and soon, Amane started jogging towards the hospital. Szandor, finding himself unable to keep pace with the athlete, whispered a few words and began floating, effortlessly keeping the pace with magical aid.

As Amane rounded the final corner of the forsaken streets, the hospital came into view at the end of the street, causing her to slow down. For a supposed house of healing and medicine, it sure looked menacing. Once white walls were almost black with soot and grime and the trees, which once probably had formed a tranquil park, were dried. The windows were smashed and a few overturned cars could be seen in front of the hospital. All in all, a pretty usual setting in this infernal town.

What gave Amane pause were the monstrous decorations before and around it. Countless of hangman nooses were hanging from the dead branches, some of them empty, some of them holding almost decomposed corpses still hanging by their necks. Several more bodies, or rather remains of bodies, were chained to the trees themselves. Some skeletons were crucified on the very walls themselves and two burning bodies were impaled on either side of the hospital doors. Amane came to a stop and, forgetting all her good Spica upbringing, swore at the sight.

"What the..." Szandor added, likewise coming to a stop and putting his feet on the ground. "Well, this is distasteful."

Fear. For the first time since the car crash, Amane felt almost overwhelmed by fear. She had seen dead people here, yes; plenty of them, in fact, all of Szandor's command. But they had died in combat... The savagery of this display, however, was something she wished she hadn't seen. Her feet suddenly became heavy as lead and she had trouble keeping her hands from shaking as she squeezed the baseball bat so hard that her knuckles turned white.

Suddenly, the hospital disappeared and images of that night in the Astraea horse stalls came to her. The face of Hikari smiling at her as she held her blonde angel and vowed never to abandon her on the first night they shared their love with one another.

Returning to the real world, Amane swore again and, once again drawing strength from profanity, strode purposefully forward, into the hangman park. She half expected the ropes and the chains to attack her, but they remained firmly in place where they were. The rat was once again hiding itself in her coat and she could sense that even Szandor felt uneasy.

The doors of the hospital had been glass; that was now smashed to bits. Once inside, the abandoned hospital looked far more normal. A receptionist desk, an information stand, a wall full of old medical advertisements and two stairs, both leading to the same place. No corpses or torture instruments, as Amane had half-way been expecting.

"Right... So what is it that we need from here, I wonder... I have a feeling your friend gave us some sort of puzzle here..." Szandor spoke thoughtfully, looking around.

Amane held her bat at the ready as she walked towards the administrator desk. The desk, like everything else, was dusty. A medical form of some kind was on the table, half of it filled out with impossibly bad handwriting and a pen, covered in long-dried blood, laid next to the papers. She took the paper and examined it; most of the writings were truly impossible to understand, both because of the handwriting as well as the ravages of time, but the patients name - Kathleen Brown, a name that meant nothing to either of them - and room number - 213, which again rang no bell for either Szandor nor Amane - were clearly visible. Setting it aside, Amane examined some other similar forms, filled with more indecipherable handwriting.

"Interesting..." she said after a while, took a stack of papers and walked to the large chart, mapping the plan of the hospital floors. She pointed her finger at the administration desk where they were at, then traced the path to the second floor, to the room 213. "It doesn't appear to be a very big room, does it?"

Szandor examined the plan and shrugged. "No, it doesn't. Why?"

"Well, it's sure a busy room..." she said and took the stack of papers. "Room 213," she said, tossing one paper over her shoulder. "And room 213. And 213. 213. 213. It all goes to the room 213," she said, tossing all the papers in the air. "All the latest admissions before... whatever happened here, they were sent to the room 213."

Szandor nodded. "I... I think we'd better check it," he said, his voice hesitant for the first time. Amane could be mistaken, but his hands seemed to grip his staff especially hard. Her eyes widened as she realized that, for the first time since she had met him, he was afraid.

Nodding, she rushed up the stairs, skipping two steps at once and stopping as she reached the door. Unlike all others, the door of 213 was not marked with a small, silvery metal plate. Above the door, a human skull was impaled on a metal spike and on the door, there was a bloody red writing:

"#213 - Come inside if you'd like to know some more."

Amane gulped and touched the handle of the door, pulling it back in startle as it was wet and slippery. "Blood, of course," she muttered and opened the door, ignoring the sense of disgust. The door slid soundlessly open, revealing the room inside.

As Amane stared at the scene before her, she heard Szandor gasp behind her. The room was filled with blood, fresh and old. Mutilated bodies, just like on the drawing, were lying on the slabs, cut apart as if animal carcasses by a butcher. Some rotting bodies were nailed to the walls and one of them was crucified, complete with a crown of thorns. One of the bodies was lying on the floor, and as the door opened, it raised it's head to look at them with it's smashed, bloody face. But Amane barely noticed that figure, her attention focused at a figure sitting in a wheelchair, heavily leaning forward as if weary of the years of life, staring out of the window impassively.

The baseball bat fell on the floor with a clatter as Amane once again stared wide-eyed. She barely even registered when her footing almost failed so that Szandor had to support her. In disbelief, she muttered:

"Hikari?" 


End file.
